


Thrall

by ArwenLune



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub, F/M, Kinbaku (Japanese Rope Bondage), Natasha trusts Clint THIS much, Power Dynamics, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/ArwenLune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a heady thrill in the idea that he was the only one she allowed to have this side of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrall

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of unpolished because I'm travelling, and I have apparently lost all ability to write things like beginnings and endings, but there you go

"Not too tight?"

 

Clint touched her wrists and fingers, checking to make sure they didn't feel cold.

 

"It's fine."

 

"Okay." He reached for another coil of rope and unfolded it.

 

He slipped the next rope through the elaborate chest harness he'd just tied, and connected it to the bar tie keeping her knees together. Pulling it tight, it folded her into a little ball, arms tied behind her back, hands cupping her opposite elbows.

 

"Okay?"he said as he worked away the ends of the rope, tucking everything away neatly.

 

She moved her shoulders a little, making an affirmative sort of hum.

 

He sat down on the mat in front of her, pulling out a stopwatch.

 

"Okay, Tash, go."

 

She wiggled her arms, seeking the slack a safe shibari tie inevitably would give up somewhere. They played these escape games more for mutual enjoyment than for any real life applications – the sort of rope bondage that was completely escape proof was also generally not what you wanted to tie on somebody you wanted to keep in one piece. Besides, in a mission you were more likely to be tied with cuffs or tiewraps or ducttape. Proper shibari form wasn't really a bad-guy MO.

 

Natasha threw back her head and leaned into the connection between her chest harness and her knees, testing how much give was there, and if she could reach the knot there with her teeth. She was grinning, a little flushed and with a glint in her eyes.

 

Clint thought she was stunning. She always was, but this was special, Tasha willingly putting herself into his hands, letting him put her in this position. It wasn't a sexual thing, because they both agreed sex shouldn't have anything to do with helplessness, but it usually either was or turned into power play between them.

 

Which was why they were doing it in the private gym space in her apartment, not in the communal gym.

 

She let herself roll over onto her side, trying out the various motions the tie restricted her to. Then over onto her back, from where she could press her knees closer to her chest and reach one of the tucked endings with her mouth.

 

Clint grinned as he watched her work away at the knot, focussed and precise. She was an escape artist, flexible and hardened, able to worm her way out of almost every tie he tried, but he had managed to increase the difficulty level considerably over time.

 

Such as putting the actual knot of this rope at her ankles, out of her reach. She cursed in Russian when she discovered that.

 

"You stuck, Tasha?"

 

"No," she gritted, trying to roll back into a sit and falling over onto her side instead. She made a little _oof_ sound and wriggled.

 

"No? Not even a little?" he kept his tone a gentle inquiry. Taunting her could be fun, but that wasn't where he wanted this to go today.

 

"Fuck you, Barton, you and your fucking... decoy ropes," she said, panting a little.

 

He leaned in, bringing his face close over hers so fast that her eyes widened.

 

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he said with level calm.

 

"I said—" she gasped involuntarily when he laid his hand over her throat, without pressure but with obvious threat.  "Oh."

 

"That's what I thought," he said pleasantly, nose still inches away from hers. Then, just as fast as he'd started it, he let go of her and backed off.

 

"Go on then, escape."

 

She lay very still, panting softly and a little bit glassy eyed, for about ten seconds before scraping her composure together and continuing her quest of getting out of the rope.

 

Clint grinned inwardly. Subspace was something they had discovered only recently in their play, and it was never reached without a struggle. They'd done this kind of thing the first time out of purely practical motivations – to take something that scared Natasha and reframe it until she was calm enough to work with it. Then they'd discovered they both liked it.

 

He let her work for a few minutes, during which she discovered that he'd secured her elbows well enough that she wouldn't be able to free her hands, at least not at this point. She curled up tightly and got her feet free though. Her ankles were still tied together, but no longer pulled up against her butt. It was a start.

 

Unfortunately for her he'd tied off each rope separately, instead of lengthening them  by connecting new rope to old, so her progress was limited, and she made a frustrated little sound. 

 

He'd been very still as he watched her, and she twitched a little when he suddenly moved to dig his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck, then used that grip to pull her more of less upright, not letting her balance herself.

 

She made a low sound in the back of her throat, something halfway between fear and surrender, and then he slanted his lips over hers, kissed her deep and hard and possessive.

 

He deliberately didn't leave her space to breathe, and after a long moment he felt her sag into his hold, surrendering to his control in a way he knew she both feared and craved. When she began to tremble he finally broke the kiss, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her in to lean against his chest as she panted for air.

 

"I've got you," he said low against her ear, letting her calm down for a while. "I've got you. You're safe."

 

The sound that escaped her was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and he cradled her head, kissed her again, softly now, gently.

 

"Okay?" he asked softly as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck.

 

"Okay," she mumbled into his shirt.

 

"More?" he asked after a while.

 

"Please."

 

Clint grinned and reached out to grab another coil of rope. Moving slow and steady, he wound the rope around her neck, just tight enough that it was a presence, but loose enough that it didn't restrict her breathing. She'd gone still at the first loop, panting lightly and making tiny whimper sounds in the back of her throat with each new loop.

 

He hooked a finger under the front of the makeshift collar he'd made, and pulled her in for a light kiss. She seemed dazed and slow, more passive than she ever was, and when he let go she just sat there for a few minutes, all thoughts of getting out of the rope apparently gone.

 

There was a heady thrill in the idea that he was the only one she allowed to have this side of her. Anybody else and she would have been fighting tooth and nail. This wasn't about the position she was in. This was about the trust.

 

He dug a hand into her hair and used his grip to tug her this way and that, her body loose and pliant as it followed. Letting go of her hair, he gave her a light shove, and she gave a tiny squeak as she fell onto her side.

 

He moved around to sit down next to her, and gently put her head in his lap, stroking the hair from her face. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and she drowsily rubbed her cheek against his leg.

 

"Tasha?" he said after a few quiet minutes.

 

"Mm?"

 

"Do you want to be untied?" As tight as she was curled up, it couldn't be comfortable even for somebody as flexible as she.

 

"Not 'm arms," she mumbled.

 

"And this?" he hooked a finger under the rope collar again. She tipped back her head and let out a quiet, shivery moan. "I'll take that for a 'leave it'?"

 

She made an affirmative sound, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. Then he went to work to undo the rope that kept her in de folded-up position. When it was loose, she briefly stretched her legs, and then pulled them back up, if not as tightly. He carefully checked every tie to make sure it wasn't cutting off circulation or pinching a nerve anywhere, and finally relaxed himself.

 

She was breathing quietly, still spaced out, and he synchronised his breathing with hers. The slow, rhythmic strokes he made over her back spelled l o v e y o u l o v e y o u l o v e y o u

 


End file.
